


Tender Years Are Gone

by rhink_is_my_kink



Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, BDSM, Bottom Rhett McLaughlin, Butt Plugs, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dom Link Neal, Dom/sub, Fluff, Gags, M/M, No Safeword, Oral Sex, Paddling, Painplay, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Punishment, Rope Bondage, Smut, Spanking, Sub Rhett McLaughlin, Top Link Neal, no beta we die like men, rhink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-06
Updated: 2019-11-06
Packaged: 2021-01-24 11:57:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21337867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhink_is_my_kink/pseuds/rhink_is_my_kink
Summary: “I wanna go into the fight. I wanna be ripped apart. And then I wanna be cradled like a big baby.” —Rhett McLaughlinCareful what you wish for, Rhett.
Relationships: Rhett McLaughlin/Link Neal
Kudos: 49





	Tender Years Are Gone

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the exchange that occurred in GMM episode #1619 (Kombucha Taste Test).

Rhett makes such a show of wanting to be “ripped apart” while they film this afternoon. Even though they’re surrounded by crew, his eyes lock with Link’s, and he fucking  _ growls _ it out. Just hearing the salacious words rumble out of Rhett on camera, in front of all their employees, knowing it isn’t something they’re going to be able to edit out, it makes Link pop wood so fast he’s dizzy for the rest of the episode.

The need to punish Rhett, to wreck him, is visceral. If Rhett wanted to be ripped apart that was damn well what Link was going to do. Their day is almost over by this point, and Link works with near surgical precision to clear their schedule for the rest of the day, having Stevie go to their afternoon meetings, and delegating a handful of other tasks to different team members. 

That done, he walks briskly to the office he shares with Rhett. “Car. Now.” He stands stone-faced while Rhett quickly collects his belongings, then follows close on Rhett’s heels as they head to his car. Link drives them home in stony silence. 

He unlocks the front door, pushes it open to let Rhett by, and says flatly, “Strip, and wait for me in the bedroom.” 

Rhett’s cheeks flush, and he quietly obeys. 

Link takes his time. Washing their dishes from that morning, returning a few phone calls and emails, and starting a load of laundry. 

For thirty minutes, Rhett waits. Kneeling on the soft cushion they keep in their playroom specifically to prevent any lasting damage to Rhett’s bony knees. He waits without fidgeting. He waits without expectation. He waits, not knowing how long Link will leave him here waiting. Or what will happen when he arrives.

The anticipation is part of the game too.

Finally he hears Link’s bare feet padding down the hall. The door opens silently, and Link enters. He’s changed out of his work clothes, and is wearing a pair of soft, comfortable jeans, with no shirt. He has several lengths of rope hanging over his forearm. He doesn’t acknowledge Rhett. And Rhett studiously keeps his head down.

Link rummages through the closet, and through a few of their chests, searching, tidying rearranging, and eventually choosing a handful of items that Rhett can only hear bang and clank against a wood surface as Link sets them down. 

“Rhett.”

When Rhett doesn't look up or respond, Link reaches down and grips his jaw tightly, and forces his face upward. 

Link’s eyes are bright blue behind his glasses, and glacially cold. He repeats Rhett’s name flatly.

Rhett flushes when Link grabs his face, and hearing his name said so sternly makes his dick start to chub up. He responds this time, but it’s breathy and quiet. “Yes, Link?” 

“I thought we had discussed toning down the innuendo at work.”

Rhett tries to look down at his thighs again, only to have Link’s grip tighten on his jaw. His cock is fully hard now, leaking against his thigh, and Link’s grip makes him whine.

Link watches Rhett’s pupils blow wide, and he knows this is having the desired effect on the kneeling man. Switching the hand on Rhett’s jaw from an underhand grip to an overhand one, he stoops down to get right in Rhett’s face. “You made me hard at work, Rhett.” As if reliving the moment, he cups a hand over the faded crotch of his jeans, and gives himself a squeeze. Rhett’s mouth floods with saliva when he sees Link is, indeed, hard right now. Seeing his eyes shift, Link gives him a shake, Rhett’s eyes are nearly black with lust. “Did you  _ hear _ me, Rhett?” He growls, “Do you know how difficult it is to finish an episode with a hard dick? With you doing all that sucking and swallowing on top of it?” He releases Rhett’s face with a curse.

Link turns away from him, and Rhett says softly, “I— I wasn’t thinking. I apologize, sir.” 

Link picks something up from the table where he’d arranged things earlier. “No. You weren’t thinking, were you? You can’t seem to remember when it’s appropriate to open your mouth, so obviously your mouth is a problem. So, why don’t we see how long we need to keep it open before you learn your lesson? Open.”

Rhett’s mouth pops open obediently, and Link slips the ring of a spider gag between his teeth. “Bite,” Link instructs, flattening the leather straps against Rhett’s cheeks, tracing along to fasten the buckle just under the curly-soft hairs at the base of his skull. 

He wraps his fingers around Rhett’s jaw again, tilting his head up, Link examines him critically. He towers above Rhett, and projects an air of authority. His broad shoulders cast an expansive shadow over the kneeling man. His chest tapers down to a slim waist and hip bones that practically form a neon sign pointing downward to Link’s incredible cock, and Rhett is having the hardest time keeping his eyes from wandering over the obviously hard length hidden behind the light blue denim. 

Link seizes Rhett’s dirty blonde coif, fingers tight in the wavy shock of hair, redirecting those wide green eyes back up to meet his own. “Here,” he says softly, but firmly, forking two fingers to point at his eyes. “You look here. My dick is not for you until I say it is.” He gives a hard tug on Rhett’s hair, eliciting a groan from the kneeling man. “You look here, or you look at the floor.”

He abruptly unhands Rhett’s hair, walking away, and returning with a long length of rope. Link quickly loops it around Rhett’s neck several times, and fashions a few quick knots with his dexterous fingers. Link pulls the end of this rope through a heavy-duty o-ring embedded in the floor in front of the carpet Rhett kneels on. 

Rhett does his best to keep his eyes on Link’s while he efficiently uses the same length of rope to cuff Rhett’s wrists on either side of the o-ring. The feel of the soft rope drawing over his skin sends a cascade of tingles over his body as endorphins flood his system. 

Link moves out of his field of vision, so he drops his eyes to the floor. He focuses on the deep navy blue knots that bind his hands and lead up to his neck. He can’t swallow properly with the gag in, so his mouth floods with saliva that spills over his teeth, past his lips, and through his beard to drop to the carpet with a muffled  _ pip, pip, pip.  _

With a new bundle of rope Link has Rhett’s legs bound in a frog tie, with an added harness around his waist. Link steps back to survey his work with a critical eye. He was only in the Boy Scouts for a single day. Not even remotely long enough to receive a merit badge or anything of the sort. But he figures if there was a grown up, porn-parody version of the scouts, he’d totally get himself a merit badge for knot tying. 

Rhett would probably agree. If he could speak, that is. 

“Damn, bo,” Link says appreciatively, “You’re so fucking perfect like this. Shit. Look at you. So good for me.” It’s more to himself than Rhett, so Rhett doesn’t lift his head. 

Again he crosses to the table where he’d earlier stashed some goodies. He takes his time, humming quietly to himself, knowing the anticipation is killing Rhett. He tucks a handkerchief in his back pocket, and crosses back over to kneel behind Rhett.

He’s still looking down at his hands, and the ever growing wet spot created by the steady stream of drool that leaks out of his mouth. He hears the snap of a lube cap, and the sounds of thick liquid being spread. Arousal coils in his gut, until Link’s hand twists roughly into the hair on the back of his head and  _ pulls _ .

Link doesn’t stop pulling until Rhett’s looking directly at the ceiling. Because of the leash connecting him to the floor, he’s forced to spread his legs wider, bow his back, and expose more of his ass. A stripe of cold wetness swipes up his crack, then two fingers push into him without ceremony.

Link’s fingers start fucking him roughly, and he growls into Rhett’s ear, “Don’t wanna waste time opening you up when I’m done with you, so I’m gonna stuff your ass now, bo. And then I’m gonna beat it.”

Rhett groans when a third finger shoves past his rim, almost immediately followed by a fourth. The stretch is too quick, and it hurts, but, given more mobility, he’d be pushing back onto Link’s fingers, because it also feels fucking amazing.

Suddenly the fingers withdraw, and he hardly has time to mourn the loss before a fat plug is being worked past his rim. Link doesn’t play around, pushing it firmly, until it sinks into Rhett on its own, and his rim closes around the neck of the plug. Both men groan long and low.

Rhett’s hair is released, amid rustled noises of Link standing. He crosses into Rhett’s field of vision again, using the handkerchief from his back pocket to wipe down his messy fingers.  _ He kind of looks like a mechanic _ , Rhett thinks to himself, dropping his eyes quickly when Link turns towards him. 

The dark blue hanky is dropped on the floor, and Link’s bare feet pad over into his periphery. A long black paddle thumps repeatedly against his thigh. He stands just so for several moments, until Rhett realizes he’s waiting on him to look up. He closes his eyes, and waits to open them until they’re in the approximate vicinity of Link’s face, lest he become distracted by Link’s body again. 

Rhett’s face shows just how wrecked he is already. Droplets of wetness dot his saliva-soaked beard, his green eyes sparkle in the light, and his cheeks are rosy. He’s shiny with sweat, and his hair hangs in limp wavy clumps around his forehead. 

“I’m trying to decide how many hits you’re gonna get,” he drawls thickly. “Normally I’d be inclined to stop at ten, but I sense that’s not going to cut it today.” His mouth pulls to the side thoughtfully. Without revealing how many strikes Rhett should expect, he vanishes behind the kneeling man again.

Link’s long-fingered hand smooths down his flank an instant before the first blow lands on his ass. It stings furiously, and makes Rhett jump. His nostrils flare as he tries to breathe through the sting, only to receive a second smack with no time to adjust. Five more loud slaps rain down in rapid succession, leaving Rhett dazed, and panting as if he’d just run a marathon. 

Link smooths a hand over the vibrant red marks, and drags blunt nails over them, making Rhett whine, and try to squirm away. Link  _ tuts _ and tugs on the leash, wordlessly making it clear that Rhett better sit still.

Then Link’s fingers push against the flared end of the plug, rocking it inside of Rhett, then three more rapid-fire strikes. Rhett’s dizzy with all the blood that’s fled his brain in favor of setting up shop in his dick. He wavers unsteadily on his knees. 

Then Link is pushing his face down to the floor, and Rhett is grateful to get his hands under his chest to steady himself. He has just enough time to turn his head towards Link before Link plants a bare foot firmly along his jaw to hold him down. 

Link palms one of Rhett’s bright red cheeks and squeezes until Rhett groans. Then his paddle slaps mercilessly on the soft, untouched skin at the back of his thighs. The thuds recoil over the meat of Rhett’s ass, adding extra sting to each fresh strike.

All in all, Link gives Rhett twenty solid hits with his paddle, plus several more with his open hand. By the time he’s done Rhett is mewling and squirming in place on the floor. His eyes burn with tears, and his cock is painfully hard and leaking a puddle beneath him. 

Rhett removes his foot from Rhett’s jaw, allowing him to sit up again. He lifts Rhett’s chin so he can take in how wrecked Rhett looks. With the hand not holding Rhett’s face, he unbuttons the front of his jeans and pulls his heavy cock out with the hand that isn’t on Rhett. He swipes his fingers through the wet mess that covers Rhett’s chin and beard, and circles his dick with slippery fingers. 

“Oh,  _ fuck _ , bo,” he hisses. “Wanna get my cock in you so fucking bad.” He jacks his prick until precome drools out of his slit. He collects the slick fluid on his fingertips, and slips those fingers in past the o-ring of Rhett’s gag and swipes over his tongue. Rhett tries to suck his fingers, but without the seal of his lips his tongue only undulates against the invading digits, greedy, pleading noises pouring from his throat. Link pushes his long fingers into Rhett’s mouth until he hits the back of his throat, making Rhett gag thickly.

He pulls his fingers back, and threads his fat cock in through the o-ring, giving a few shallow thrusts, allowing Rhett the barest moment to adjust before he pushes the blunt head of his prick to the back of his throat. Gentle, but insistent, invasive pressure produces more wet retching sounds that make Link groan his appreciation. Eventually the reflex subsides, and he’s able to slide his dick past those recalcitrant muscles, and he pushes into Rhett’s throat until the kneeling man is nosing into the dark tangle of Link’s pubes. 

He looks down the flat, pale expanse of his torso, meeting wide, wet eyes, tears making shiny tracks down Rhett’s cheeks, his face flushed with the need to breathe. “Yeah. Look good like this, bo,” he drawls thick and dirty as he fucks into the o-ring, and the warm throat behind it. “‘S all your mouth is good for innit? Shame I can’t shut you up at work like this. Oh,  _ fuck _ . Could you  _ imagine _ the views it’d get though? Shit, they’d be through the roof.” The thought is so purely and deliciously voyeuristic it makes Rhett’s head spin and his cock jump. 

  
Link finally hauls himself out of Rhett’s tight throat. A guttural groan rolls out of Rhett as soon as he’s able to huff in a wet breath. A thick strand of slobber spans the distance between Rhett’s mouth, and Link’s cock. Link strokes a hand over his shaft, and feeds himself back through the o-ring into the snug confines of Rhett’s throat again. 

Too soon though, he stops, and Rhett gives him a dejected look, prompting a succinct explanation, “Bo, I’d love to unload down your throat, but it’d be a shame to get your ass all wet and stretched out, and not get my dick in it.”

He disappears from Rhett’s field of vision, there’s a rustle of cloth, and a brief moment of nothing before a slick finger circles his rim, then quickly works the plug out of him. Link’s hand in the middle of his back urges him to fold forward again, and as soon as he does Link thumbs the head of his dick past his rim. His hands find the harness he braided over Rhett’s hips, and uses it to drag him back onto his cock. 

Link bottoms out in one smooth push, grinding against Rhett enough to reawaken the sting deep in the meaty muscle of Rhett’s hot, red ass cheeks. Rhett has just enough range of motion to roll his hips and push back against Link. Hissing, Link pulls the harness snug with a yank and starts fucking Rhett hard and fast. 

His hips slap roughly against Rhett, beating noisy breaths out of his chest. Rhett finds that even with his palms planted on the floor, it isn’t enough traction to keep each forceful thrust from driving him forward. Annoyed with the expenditure of effort it takes to keep Rhett in place, Link sits back on his heels, and pulls Rhett nearly into his lap. Spreading the bound man’s legs wide lets Link get even deeper inside Rhett, and drives him against Rhett’s prostate with each push. It’s right at the end of the range of motion allowed by the leash around Rhett’s neck, so Link reaches around, and tugs free the knot that leads the chain of braids to unravel, freeing Rhett’s neck, and hands from the o-ring in the floor. 

Tugging the rope until his hands are free, Rhett drags Link’s arms around him, and guides a hand to his dick. He wraps Link’s agile fingers around himself, making pleading noises until Link’s fist tightens around his shaft, slippery with precome, and starts jerking him off.

“Fuck, bo. You’re so wet. Need to come, don’t’cha?” Rhett’s shaggy head nods emphatically. Link honestly isn’t sure how he’s managed to wait this long. “Mmm, yeah. You’re so good, bo. You earned it. Lemme make you feel good. You can come for me.” 

Rhett gives a full-body shudder, and comes with a groan. The first splashes land hot on his thighs, leaving dirty white stripes on Link’s lovely blue rope, pattering onto the carpet below Rhett. Link milks him until the final few spasms sluggishly drain come over his fist.

The  _ clenchreleaseclench _ of Rhett’s hole around his cock briskly pulls Link towards his own release. He heaves Rhett up against his chest, and holds him tight while he pumps Rhett’s guts full with the feverish warmth of his orgasm, cooing nonsensical praise at the bigger man. 

He smoothly slides Rhett out of his lap, gently shushing his whined protest. He eases Rhett back onto an inflatable mattress on the floor beside them. It’s a full-size mattress, not quite the right size for two big men, but plenty good enough for a post-coital power-nap.

Rhett is rolled onto his side, allowing Link to unbuckle and remove the spider gag, and to loosen and remove the rope around his legs. Rhett is awake, and silent, a dreamy look over his features. Link wipes them both down with warm, soft rags, gently cleaning saliva and tears from Rhett’s face, and sweat, lube, and come from everywhere else. 

Link lovingly massages the tension out of Rhett’s jaw, working his way down to his shoulders, and back, ending with the long muscles of his thighs. He uses some fragrant oil that chases the strain out of his muscles until Rhett’s body is warm, and he’s humming happily at the touch. He rubs a different cream into the vibrantly red spots that decorate Rhett’s tender ass cheeks, it smells minty and cool, and spreads a pleasant chill all the way down to the bone. 

“Link,” Rhett calls softly.

“Yeah, bo? You okay?”

Rhett nods, clutching the pillow Link pushes over to him. “Lay down.”

“I will baby. One more minute.” He motions at Rhett to lift his head up so he can drink some water. Link holds the glass for him, letting Rhett sip until he’s happy that Rhett won’t wake up dehydrated later. 

He slides in beside Rhett, with a big downy comforter in tow. He sheathes them in its warmth, and slides his arm under Rhett’s head, snuggling close to let Rhett use his bicep as a pillow. He wraps an arm around Rhett’s chest, allowing him to sink into his side.

He peeks at Rhett’s to see if he’s fallen asleep yet. “I’m ‘wake,” Rhett slurs. “Gonna sleep. Stop worryin’.”

Link  _ tsks _ , “Never, bo. It’s my job to worry about you.” Rhett runs a finger over Link’s goozle as it bobs when he speaks, so Link swallows hard, smiling affectionately as it makes Rhett giggle drunkenly when the hard crest dips dramatically. “I’ll  _ always _ worry about you. Are you okay?” Rhett makes a noise of affirmation. “Is that—this—what you wanted, bo?” Rhett nods emphatically. His wavy hair is luminous in the light and it makes Link’s heart stutter in his chest.

Rhett’s eyes drift closed, and Link thinks he has fallen asleep after a few minutes, until he hears Rhett’s rumbly voice say something in a garbled mumble.

“What’d you say, brother?”

Rhett repeats himself, only marginally more understandable than before, “I said, you’re a good man, Neal.”

Link chuckles. “Shaddup and go to sleep, bo.”

“Sing t’ me.”

Link presses a kiss into his curls, and silently rifles through his mental song compendium, settling on one with a hum of affirmation. 

His voice starts out low and shaky, but becomes more sonorous as the first strains of Merle Haggard’s “Love Keeps Hanging On” weaves through the silence of their little universe. Rhett rolls toward him and nuzzles into his chest, and Link wraps his arms tight around him. He rubs little circles in Rhett’s back until soft snoring sounds announce that he’s fallen asleep. 

Even without the audience, Link sings every note of the song before he falls asleep next to his beloved. 

**Author's Note:**

> The title, and the song Link sings to Rhett at the end is "Love Keeps Hanging On" by Merle Haggard. It's really beautiful, give it a listen. 
> 
> No beta. We die like men.
> 
> Thanks for liking, commenting, and subscribing!
> 
> Follow me on Tumblr: rhink-is-my-kink


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